Misplaced, my heart
I am a body, my face
My hands, But
This is not living
I tell her I need to leave
The small town streets,
And dead end family ties
Are suffocating me until...
I look at her wide eyed,
Images of California sunshine -
I could even care less about your ex,
What are the odds?
And what is the point?
She has dreams,
But mine are larger
I can barely make room.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Misplaced, my heart
I am a body, my face
My hands, But
This is not living
I tell her I need to leave
The small town streets,
And dead end family ties
Are suffocating me until...
I look at her wide eyed,
Images of California sunshine -
I could even care less about your ex,
What are the odds?
And what is the point?
She has dreams,
But mine are larger
I can barely make room.
Fragments.
Haven't written in awhile.
#rusty
